


Get Used To It

by John_Bender



Series: Unsquare Dance [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 21:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1663208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Bender/pseuds/John_Bender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>´It’s death and destruction. Him and the collar, locked in a vicious feedback loop, amplifying each other with every lap, every alternating set of pulses - one in, one out, one in, one out, one in, one out, and so on and so forth. And all the while he’s suspended in a full body spasm, until every single nerve ending in him screams for release.`</p><p>* The Doctor's Tardis has fun with the Master</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Used To It

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I’m beginning to think I might sorta own this one. I can’t find another fic that’s done erotic interaction between the Master and the Tardis.
> 
> Also, AU by now.

*********

Just his luck. Took Rassilon down, fuelled up on life energy, bounced back from the Time Lock, survived the fall through the Vortex. 

Only to land in the Tardis, right at the Doctor’s feet.

And click-clack, the twat slaps a collar round his neck.

“What the heck’s that supposed to be,” the Master growls. 

“That’s supposed to be a safety-slash-reconditioning collar. Dampens your mental shields, your hypnotic powers, makes it impossible for you to leave the Tardis.” 

“That how you thank me for saving your life?”

“That’s how I make sure I don’t have to save others from you.”

The Master yanks at the collar. It’s metal. Heavy. And it’s gonna chaff. “Take it off.”

“Well, I could. If you’d prefer finding yourself cuffed to the console.”

ZAPP!

The collar dishes out a hefty electric shock. After having been burned alive, shot, pelted with resurrection-blotching potions, the Master likes to think he’s not overly pain sensitive. But this comes so out of the blue, he jumps and yelps. “What the fuck...?”

“Ah yes,” the Doctor nods. “That would be the reconditioning bit. Added it, centuries ago, when I went through a teensy-weensy phase of self-control-issues. Zaps you every time you have naughty thoughts.”

The Master’s stomach drops. “Naughty...what?”

“Naughty thoughts. You know, like manipulating people, torturing people, killing people. Your usual brand of havoc. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“Never!” he bellows, turns on his heel and stomps off to his room.

He’s getting the sinking feeling that he’s in very deep doo-doo here. Cause for once, havoc had been the last thing on his mind.

***

“Am I right in assuming that we’re facing a bad case of Doctor-can’t-remember-what-he-programmed-his-gadget-for,” the Master inquires in a notably more polite tone of voice once he’s alone with the Tardis. 

Her telepathic chuckle is an itch on his prefrontal cortex. “Yes.”

“And am I furthermore right in assuming that the programming he can’t be arsed to remember has something to do with a slightly more literal definition of the word ´naughty`?”

Another itch. “Yes.”

The only reason she talks to him at all, he knows, is because she’s taking a perverse delight in seeing him up shit creek without a paddle. 

“Switch it off.” He can practically see her sneer.

“The Doctor doesn’t like it when I tamper with his tech without permission. Why don’t you ask him to switch it off?”

Because he can’t very well tell him that... “Because it’s just a malfunction. Wouldn’t wanna bother him with it, would we?”

“Malfunction, my ass. Then why do I see in your mind that you have the hots for him?”

“Cause you’re a malfunction, too!” 

“And what’s with the raging boner you’re sporting?”

ZAPP!

“Malfunction,” he groans and topples onto his wrought iron bed. 

The Tardis leans in, a mental equivalent to brushing her lips against his ear. “Admit it. You want the Doctor. Badly. You want him to chain you to my innards and shag you senseless.”

ZAPP! ZAPP-ZAPP-ZARAPPZAPPZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP!

The Master curses. In Gallifreyan. He really isn't a wuss, but this thing hurts. Quite a bit. And that’s exactly the problem. Cause like every good sadist he is, at his core, a hopeless masochist. And as his naughty thoughts trigger the collar, the collar triggers his naughty thoughts. 

ZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPPZAPPZARAPPTARAPPZAPTAPTARAPZAPPZAPP!

He lies, panting, fingers digging into the sheets and pupils blown like he’s OD-ed on prime Columbian Coke. 

“How bout this, Koschei,” the ship purrs - and the Master almost gags upon hearing her using his real name - “You admit you want to get off on him and give me a hot, sticky cumshot for proof. And in return I switch off the ´malfunction`.” 

It takes him a moment to catch his breath and croak “In your dreams, bitch.”

***

By the time the Tardis goes into her day semicircle the Master is nauseous from all the zapping. He tried to let himself fall asleep but the problem is, with sleep comes dream. And dream is just another brand of thought. So he got zapped awake every time he just about dozed off. 

“Give in, Koschei,” the Tardis croons. “Give in!” Then she starts singing. “Give yourself over to absolute pleasure. Swim the warm waters of sins of the flesh - erotic nightmares beyond any measure, and sensual daydreams to treasure forever!”

ZAPP! ZAPP-ZAPP-ZARAPPZAPPZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPPZAPPZARAPPTARAPPZAPTAPTARAPZAPPZAPP!

When she gets to “Don’t dream it, be it,” he curls up into a fetal position. 

***

At sunset he’s a whimpering mess.

“Koschei?” She’s prodding at him, almost gently. “Koschei, you’re no fun at all. I mean, as much as I enjoy seeing you suffer, it starts to get old. I’m thinking, wouldn’t you rather wrap one of your oh so cruel hands around your oh so impressive cock and have a magnificent wank to the image of our beloved Doctor?” And then she gives him the fakest smile ever and adds “Master?”

ZAPP! ZAPP-ZAPP-ZARAPPZAPPZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPPZAPPZARAPPTARAPPZAPTAPTARAPZAPPZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP-ZAPP-ZARAPPZAPPZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPPZAPPZARAPPTARAPPZAPTAPTARAPZAPPZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP-ZAPP-ZARAPPZAPPZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP! ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPP-ZAPPZAPPZARAPPTARAPPZAPTAPTARAPZAPPZAPP!

He comes out of it with his eyes watering. “All right,” he hisses. “Allrightallrightallrightallright, you devious cunt. But this is a one-off. Strictly a one-off, you hear me? And when it’s over we never talk about it, ever again.”

“Yeah, whaeva.”

He inhales. Braces himself. And wraps that hand round his cock. 

There’s no need for a wank, though. All he needs is a harsh grip with just a hint of nails before he loses grip on pretty much everything else.

***

It’s death and destruction. Him and the collar, locked in a vicious feedback loop, amplifying each other with every lap, every alternating set of pulses - one in, one out, one in, one out, one in, one out, and so on and so forth. And all the while he’s suspended in a full body spasm, until every single nerve ending in him screams for release. 

***

When it’s finally, finally over, the Tardis looks down on her creation and behold, it is good. 

The Bastard is shaken. Raw. Sleek with sweat and spunk and – yes, now that she looks closer, a tear or two. 

Oh, this is SO worth a slap on the wrist from the Doctor. “Very nice. Then I’m off to hack into your collar.”

“Don’t bother.” His voice is a hoarse whisper but she hears him alright. “I might get used to it after all.”


End file.
